Magic Claims by Ilona Andrews

She looked like one of the hunters. The same slender build with an odd shoulder line and limbs that looked too long. But unlike the hunters, she hadn’t smeared any clay on her hair. Her long locks streamed in the wind, and they weren’t black, brown, or blond. Her hair was a light, ethereal blue. The exact same shade that tinted all that clay on her followers’ hair and faces. She had marked them as hers.

Her face was unnaturally white, probably tinted with powder or some kind of paint that was a lot smoother than the blue clay. Bloodred pigment stained her eyelids and the space under her eyes. Her whole face looked like a skull with two bloody holes where the orbits should be. The priest-mages hovered around her, anxious.

Hello, evil in the forest. I’ve come to borrow a cup of sugar and to chat about Penderton. Is it a bad time?

The woman said something, baring her teeth. They were sharp and triangular like those of a shark. The skin on her exposed arms was an odd, faded ochre and patterned lightly as if someone had painted a ghostly brindle over it with bluish-green pigment. Teeth, hair, skin…

Turn your head, turn your head…

She snapped at one of the priest-mages, presenting me with a view of her ear. Pointed. Got you.

“Fae,” I said.

“What?” Curran said.

“She isn’t human. She’s fae.”

“Fae?” Keelan asked. “Here?”

“Fae legends aren’t confined to Ireland. They pop up in folklore all through Europe and Asia in various forms. The leading theory is that modern humans and fae had a common ancestor but diverged in prehistory. We had interbred at some point after that divergence, which is why human parents sometimes give birth to a fae child. Magic activates the dormant genes. Our Pale Skull Queen is a prehistoric fae.”

And Dad would just love that little tidbit. When he was building the Order of Sahanu, his assassins, he’d specifically looked for fae children because of their significant magic reserve. Father, did you know fae are capable of claiming? His head would explode.

I lowered the binoculars and turned to look at our crew.

“That explains a lot of things,” Curran said. “Like the absence of iron. Okay, the Pale Queen on that tower is our primary target. Their society is rigidly structured. She’s on top, then the priest-mages, then the hunters and shapeshifters on the bottom.”

“If you don’t have magic, you’re not shit,” Keelan said.

“Yes,” Curran confirmed. “She’s going to assess us by what she knows. She’s seen Kate do magic and claim the land, so she will view her as a queen and us as her disposable underlings.”

“We’re going to use it to our advantage,” I said. “Once the fight starts, she will key in on me because she thinks I’m the biggest threat.”

“She’ll sit in her tower and field her shapeshifters,” Curran said. “Judging by her previous actions, she thinks of her subordinates as subhuman. She’ll hurl them at us because she doesn’t care if they survive. When that happens, we’re going to pull the fight to the left to give Kate room to work. We need to get to those walls with minimal casualties.”

I nodded. “I’ll be throwing magic around so don’t be in front of me. Heather, your people, Conlan, Darin, and Jushur will need to hang back and to the right. Don’t be directly behind me but stay close enough until you get in range that I can close the distance and protect you if there are surprises. Be careful. This is her territory, and we don’t know what she’s capable of. She could collapse the ground under you or blow up her walls to crush you.”

“Questions?” Curran asked.

There were no questions.

“I need a volunteer for my left,” I said.

Owen stepped forward, brandishing a huge hammer. Where the hell had he pulled that out from?

“Stay. Close. To. Her,” Curran ordered, enunciating each word. “Don’t get distracted.”

Owen nodded. “Yes, Alpha.”

“Okay, let’s get her attention.” I stepped into the light and raised the binoculars to my face.

One of the priest-mages pointed at me. The Pale Queen stared. Dark smoke boiled around her, sliding along her arms and shoulders.

I raised my hand and waved.

The Pale Queen bared her teeth and stabbed a finger in my direction. A harsh cry echoed through the fortress. Internal shutters slid aside, and suddenly windows peppered the corner tower. Shapeshifters rained down onto the grass.

“Here we go!” Curran snarled.

I thrust the binoculars back at Rimush, scanning the bodies running toward us. Ten, twenty, thirty. Over sixty shaggy shapes, every one of them bigger than the average shapeshifter. Shit.

Curran burst into warrior form and roared.

The blast of sound tore through the plain. The attackers in the rear slowed, as if unsure, but the front line kept charging.

Curran broke into a run.

“For the Pack!” Keelan screamed.

Our shapeshifters dashed past me.

I dropped my cloak and started forward, slowly, deliberately. Rimush was on my right and Owen was on my left.

The magic in front of me thickened, the dark smoke swirling and pooling, reaching out to me like the tentacles of some nightmarish creature.

I channeled my magic into Sarrat and spoke the incantation. “Terrat sahatur.”